


Soiled Blackbirds of Deadwood

by smothermeinrelish



Category: McLennon Fandom, The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2020-06-26 14:44:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smothermeinrelish/pseuds/smothermeinrelish
Summary: The Wild West has held an appeal for Paul McCartney a musician and piano player who has burned his bridges in England and is making his way across the continental United States for ultimate riches in California.  Wanderlust and hungry for adventure, he isn't sure the Dakota Territory and Deadwood are what he envisioned, but a protective Stranger by the name of John Lennon might be the one to show him what he really wants in his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have always had a love of the old west, particularly brothels, madams, bootlegging and gambling. My library is filled with historical non fiction regarding these topics. Working at museums and archives also gave me a first hand experience with early US History. Recently I visited Deadwood S.D. on vacation and got this inspiration for a McLennon fic. Prostitutes in the old west were called "Soiled Doves" hence the title "Soiled Blackbirds" seemed to fit with John and Paul. 
> 
> Let me know what you think.

The jostling of the stagecoach made it impossible to sleep. His journey had been long, steamboat, railroad and now a rickety carriage full of strangers heading to the same place, The Dakota Territory. 

Aside from the newspaper articles sparking Gold Rush fever, the truth of the area was unknown. The few who left for the territory, never returned. Either striking it rich, or dying a horrible death. The talk of the Wild West intrigued him, after coming ashore to New York from docks of Liverpool; he had been fascinated with the stories. Hopeful pioneers in canvas covered wagons, across the desolate plains for a better life. Only to die from disease, venomous animals or wild Natives that still lived in the land.

Paul had worked his way west over the course of five years, maintaining a wanderlust persona. Going where the wind would blow him, a short time in New York, traveling along paying his way with his skills on the piano and singing voice. In no time he could busker with the best, and rarely had slept on the streets. Occasionally, he would steal for a meal, but since he had landed in Chicago, he had found steady employment as a musician at the finest whorehouse in the city, where men spent a minimum of $100 just to come in the door. His pretty face and voice got him many tips, free shags and all the steak and champagne he could gulp down.

With his fat coffers, he was ready for the next adventure. Cowboys in the untamed west, sounded just like the prospect to explore. When a wealthy patron to the Everleigh Club spoke of the wild ‘Dakota Territory’ Paul was enamored with the stories, gunfights, dance halls, and real men finding fortune in the Black Hills. Nuggets of gold the size of your fist being pulled from the crystal clear streams. He pulled all of the information he could from the customer, and knew he had to be a part of it. 

Less than a month later, he had given his notice to the sisters of the brothel, and had been given a letter of reference to the proprietor of Epstein’s Saloon and Dancehall in Deadwood. Correspondence had been sent ahead of Paul’s journey that he would play for the can-can dancers at the largest drinking establishment in the town. His wages would be less than what he earned at the Everleighs, but he would be provided a room. Apparently this Epstein owned hotels, saloons, whorehouses, dance halls and gold mines, a very wealthy fellow, with a reputation of maintaining a clean operation, unlike many others.

What Paul did learn about his new home in Deadwood was that there were no laws. Since the town was still considered Indian land, the territory had no state police or legal system. Bedlam at it’s finest. Paul had skipped out of England after stealing a large sum of money from his brother, and hid in a cargo ship to be taken away from the shit hole of his birth land. For all his family back home knew was that he had died, and therefore was no longer of concern. Being no stranger to crime and bad behavior, his baby face was a good disguise. Many times he pulled a fast one by playing innocent, which always worked in his favor. Even the working girls at the club took pity on the pretty boy. He never paid once for a fuck, and didn’t plan on paying in Deadwood either. If the town was rowdy, Paul figured he could fit in nicely, until the next port called out to him. By then, he had planned on having pockets of gold nuggets to make him rich enough to build a mansion in California.

The sun was beginning to rise over the mountain peaks in the distance, the lilac and pink in the sky was beautiful. He stared out the smudged window into the heavily tree lined horizon; this was going to be incredible. He had never seen the mountains, and the air was so clean, you could see for miles in all directions. 

A short time later, the stagecoach crept up and down a winding dirt road, settling in the bottom of a valley, where the main street appeared desolate at this time of the morning. He thought it was Saturday, perhaps Sunday, he had lost track. The horses stopped at the North end of the town, all passengers were to disembark. 

Grabbing his knapsack of personal items, he bounded off to explore. Not making it much further than a block, the foul stench of rotting death permeated into his nostrils. Covering his nose in order to not retch, he looked in the direction of the alley where the ghastly odor permeated. When his eyes caught glimpse of the pile of bodies, actual dead people bloated, purple and bloodied with white lifeless eyes pointed to the heavens, a shiver rose up his spine. Flies circled the putrid mass, as Paul took another step closer, he was yanked back to the wooden path of the town walk. 

“Sonny, you the new Undertaker?!” An older man with missing teeth and rotting breath spat in his face.

“Christ, no. Why are they lying there? Paul kept his nose and mouth covered to try and breath, but between the old man and the death, he was nauseated. 

“Fella on top there is the Undertaker. He was anyway. Some Bastard didn’t agree with his fees to bury his brother, so he shot him in the head.” The man nodded at the heap. “Got no one to bury the dead now.” The man waved towards the alley, and kept walking down the path.

Left dazed and disgusted, Paul backed out of the narrow alley, talking gulps of fresh air. He had seen a dead body once, it was his mother, and she was peaceful. Lying in the front room of his family home during the traditional wake, sprays of fragrant flowers in her hands to cover the smell. Nothing like the gory spectacle he just witnessed in his new town. He tried to forget it, and kept walking until he found the cluster of buildings that belonged to his new employer.

This Epstein must have been the richest man in the land, his properties sprawled a whole block. The hotel was one of the tallest buildings he had seen; in his mind he envisioned velvet curtains, gold lamps and exotic carpets, much like the Everleigh club. With any hope his room would be a luxurious space for him to tinker away writing songs and melodies for the performers. He could almost feel the warm bubbly bath he would enjoy right after meeting his new boss.

Pushing the heavy wooden door open to the saloon entrance, the massive hall was empty, save for a lonely drunk slumped over a table near the polished wood bar. The gaslights were dimmed, a smoky haze drifted through the room. Paul scanned the room for a living soul, soon a man carrying an armful of beer in crates rattled into the bar. Paul stepped aside, allowing him to set his heavy cargo down.

“Care for a drink?” Standing up from his crouched position, the individual looked up and caught Paul’s line of sight. The man looked to be about his same age, with gold wire glasses perched on a beak-like aquiline nose. His dirty auburn locks were matted with sweat to his forehead, that dripped down to his rugged mutton chops down the sides of his cheeks. 

What Paul noticed first about the man, was the thickness of his fore arms; his shirt had been rolled up, exposing the muscles. From the lifting of booze he suspected, aside from the freckles that covered the man’s arms, Paul found him analyzing him more that he should have. Did he hear a slight hint of an accent in the barkeeps voice?

“Please, that sounds grand.” Paul finally responded.

“Hang on, are you English?” Smiling wide, his teeth were perfectly straight and his voice was genuine.

“Yes actually, I’m Paul McCartney, Mr. Epstein’s new piano player.” His hand extended towards the burley man, expecting a bone-crushing shake.

Studying Paul a bit suspiciously, he took his time to touch the slender fingered hand of Paul. Taking it more delicate that Paul expected, he found himself anticipating the contact. Letting Paul maintain his eye contact, the almond shaped lids of the man behind the spectacles had infinitely long lashes that brushed against the smudged lenses as he blinked slowly; licking his lower lip his grip on Paul’s hand was soft, like a caress from and old friend that lasted longer than two strangers meeting for the first time.

“Nice to meet you Paul McCartney, name’s John Lennon.” They just kept shaking their connected hands until a brief chuckle came out of John’s mouth.

“Have a seat, I’ll get you that drink.” John nodded towards the tall stool behind his shoulder. Paul watched him walk away, behind the bar. His arms weren’t the only muscled part of the man’s body, he looked a bit longer than he should have at the way his black trousers hugged over the round curve of his ass. Not to mention the defined thigh muscles that strained in the unforgiving pants as well.  
If Paul was looking into this interaction further, he almost felt as if John was teasing him a bit with his mannerisms. Regardless, he bellied up to the bar, waiting for a pour of something to sooth his travel weary body.

Just as Paul was about to continue the conversation with the husky bartended, a loud kick of a boot against the door broke into the saloon. 

“Lennon, you son of a bitch, give me my..er!” The deafening pop of a gun exploding near his head happened too quickly for Paul to duck down over the bullets firing.

“Owwwwww, you fucker, shot my hand, you goddamn bastard!!!!” Wails of profanity while the dirty man writhed on the floor of the saloon, leaking blood all over the wooden tavern floor.

“Told you Stinky Pete, that horse is mine, you lost him. Now get the fuck out of me saloon before I shoot ya’ again ya lousy cocksucker!” With a pistol extended out from his arm, John stared straight ahead waiting for the crippled man on the floor to get up and out of the building.

Cocking the revolver one more time to throw a bullet in the chamber, the echoing sound of another shot potentially being fired, got the man to scurry up and out the bar, clutching his wounded hand to his chest as he moaned in pain out the door.

After a beat, as nonchalant as possible, John tucked the gun away behind the bar. Bringing up a towel to casually wipe the counter. The smell of fired gunpowder hung around his head, and a high pitch ring buzzed in his ears. Paul must have looked dumbfounded with his mouth agape still reeling in the ten seconds of action that he had just witnessed.

“So what’ll it be?” John asked him.

“The fuck just happened mate?” Paul was livid, he could have been killed, what was the big idea with this guy pulling a gun and shooting?

“First time in Deadwood I reckon? Yeah? Here’s my advice for you.” John reached back under the bar, placing the still warm revolver into Paul’s shaking hand. “Get one of these, an’ learn how to use it! Or you’ll be dead before the end of the week.”

Leaving the shining metal gun in Paul’s hand, he popped the cap off two bottles of warm beer and handed one to him while taking a deep slug of the liquid, spilling a drop down his chin, the beverage quenched his thirst on the fine Sunday morning. Tipping a nod and a smile, John continued to grin at the pretty boy at his bar.

“Welcome to Deadwood son.”


	2. Chapter 2

What Paul learned his first days working for Mr. Epstein was that the man was a Laudanum addict, and spent most of his time gambling at another saloon outside of Deadwood. Although his presence was absent, he ran a tight ship and the other employees of Epstein, respected the strung out man. 

Rules had to be followed:  
1\. No fucking other lodgers, whores, barkeeps and patrons. (Well shit, if that first rule didn’t throw a wrench in Paul’s plans of finding a free and quick shag.)  
2\. Take a Bath. Mr. Epstein said it was cheaper to have his whores be clean than pay a doctor to see to ailments. Being a man who was fascinated with modern medicine and technology, his operations had indoor plumbing including bathtubs. Unfortunately, privacy was an issue. His first night in the bath was interrupted with two working girls giggling and taking turns dying their hair with an awful stench of chemicals. So much for a relaxing soak.  
3\. Have a weapon. Learn to use it. Case in point, Paul obtained a rather sharp knife, since he was skilled with that. The idea of shooting a gun still seemed horrifying to him. Although on his second night playing, a fight had broken out, and multiple gunshots had been fired. Leaving one man dead, slumped over a poker table.

Aside from the few rules he was expected to abide by, he found his room comfortable, located very last in the corridor. The walls were still thin, and by the second night of performing he succumbed to self-gratification as he listed to the soft moans and rhythm of the brass bed banging against the shared wall. Lusting in his mind after a large breasted vixen riding him like Lady Godiva, gave him sweet release that was much needed. 

Linda, the working girl next door had a plain face, but a happy outlook on life. Most whores were a miserable lot, but it seemed that the girls at Epsteins had a decent attitude, and were given more luxuries than most unwed women in other situations. Of the ladies he had met, they were all pleasant, welcoming, motherly and a bit cheeky, which Paul liked. 

He especially found he had become fond of his musical partner, Jane. She was a pretty red head from New York, travelling with a theatre group, they had settled in Nebraska, but Jane wanted to be the star, so she broke away to make a name for herself in Deadwood. Even though they had rehearsed only a few times, he liked her, and her charm and wit. They made a good team; she had fun ideas for him to participate on stage with her in make up and costumes. He had always enjoyed the theatre; the idea of dressing up and pretending to be someone else was an appealing idea.

With the whirlwind of getting settled, playing and arranging music and meeting the other workers in the saloon, he had nearly forgotten about the man he met on his first day, John Lennon. It seemed as if after their initial meeting, he never crossed paths with the man again. Not that he minded, since he damn near deafened Paul in his first moments in the town. Still, something about this demeanor, and personality made Paul curious. Where had he disappeared off to? Some of the other bartenders were constants around the saloon, George and Rich were there all the time, pouring drinks, and breaking up fights that arose over the course of the nights.

Paul wondered if perhaps he didn’t actually work for Mr. Epstein, or perhaps he no longer worked there. He felt a brief moment of disappointment, why was he interested in the Lennon fellow? Maybe it was he seemed experienced, a bit rough around the edges. His eyes told of secrets that no one else knew about him, and there was a bit of danger behind his stare. Paul remembered the feel of his callused fingers in hand as he put the smoking revolver in his hand, instructing him how to educate himself on handling a gun. He was a challenge; everyone else he had interacted with was an open book to Paul, willing to divulge his or her past easily to him. He had that kind of face, trusting. Not John. Honestly, Paul had spent far more time thinking about the auburn haired bloke than he should. Christ, he needed a good fuck.

When Thursday night arrived, Paul sauntered down to the saloon ready to play for the dancing girls at 8pm, his breath hitched when standing behind the bar was Mr. John Lennon, confidently owning the bar with banter, laughter and a clean shave and haircut. Paul realized he had stopped on the steps, clutching the mahogany bannister, scanning over the crowded dancehall, trying to make his observation subtle. When he scanned back over the bar, his eyes locked with John, and for a moment he forgot to breathe.

The room seemed to dim, and for a time they were the only two in the room. Paul continued to walk, being sure to not break eye contact with John behind the bar. Only when he reached the bottom step, he looked to the floor and began walking to the stage, avoiding a detour to the bar for refreshment. He could feel Lennon’s eyes follow him to the piano. Taking a seat, he began to play.

Hours had passed, and the loud crowd of people sang along with the songs Paul pounded out onto the hot piano. Jane giving a peep shows of her stockings and knickers with wandering into the sea of rowdy men. For a ballad she performed, she sat on the piano, making eyes at Paul, while he sang along a bit with her. Running her fingers through his raven black locks, the audience was eating up the seductive act Jane put on. Cheering and whistling on, the tips poured in to Paul’s jar.

Jane’s teasing little game was a welcome distraction. All night he could swear he felt John’s eyes burning into his sweat soaked back as he played. When a well-earned break was rewarded, he went to the opposite end of the bar to get a beer, and roll a smoke. As quick as he could, he found his way outside to the courtyard that connected the building together, not even glancing around the chaos to seek out John.

When he put the tightly rolled cig to his lips a spark of a match lit up behind a pillar and a dark figure walked over to Paul from the corner. Being led by the orange glow of the match, he suspected he already knew who it was before said person extended his hand towards Paul’s pouty lips. Taking the light, he took a generous pull, filling his lungs with the numbing tobacco and cool night air. Leaning against the wall, the two fell into a silence, before Paul spoke. “Where have you been then?” Stepping away from the wall, John turned so his body leaned towards Paul, placing his hand on the wall for support, near enough to Paul’s shoulder, that he felt the warmth radiating off of him. “Why? Did you miss me?” Giving a devilish grin. He did, but he wasn’t going to say that, nor did he know where this feeling in his gut was coming from. Trying to remain collected, “How can I miss you, when I don’t even know you?” He had hoped he sounded confident. “Would you like to get to know me?” John hovered closer, studying the soft pink of his flushed cheeks and the angled arch of his perfectly shaped eyebrows. John was enamored with the sweet face of this newcomer. 

“I’d like to have a conversation that isn’t only coy questions.” Paul chuckled to himself, as he stamped out the now burned cigarette to the ground. Looking back up at John, who had seemed to get closer to him, if that were even possible. “Before we do, I have one more question, did you learn how to use your gun since I’ve been gone?” Smirking, John bit his lip, as he looked the piano player up and down again as his lean frame shook with laughter. “You know, that sounds like an innuendo.” Christ, he was feeding into the flirtatious banter with this mysterious man. John only got closer to Paul’s ear, he swore that he felt the brush of his sideburn on his cheek. He smelled of peppermint, and spicy cologne, clean, with a faint hint of sweet tobacco. When John’s lips whispered into the shell of Paul’s ear, he nearly moaned. “Do you want it to be an innuendo?” So close now, Paul didn’t know how he got here, how this stranger was giving him a twist of arousal in his lower belly, greater than any of the working girls had all week walking around topless, with their tits on display for all to see.

He had to get his bearings, although the town was lawless, queer activities had never appealed to Paul, but something about the power in John’s stature made him want to give it a try more than ever. Surely the lack of snatch had clouded his judgment. “There ya’ go again, asking more questions.” Using all his strength to shut down the intimate conversation, he pushed away from the wall to grab a deep slug of the bottle sat on the ground next to him. 

Watching his pale throat gulp the beverage, John licked his lips and leaned back against the wall, giving the pretty boy space. “I suppose I want to know more about you. You intrigue me.” John subtly, but confidently adjusted the crotch of his trousers, just enough for Paul to catch the action from the corner of his eye. Feeling the familiar tingle in his groin. Not much more of this, or Paul could lose his head if he wasn’t careful. 

Breaking away from their cozy corner of the courtyard, Paul walked back towards the loud saloon door, turning around to see John admiring his round ass. “Best be back to work, we can ‘intrigue’ each other later then.” He winked, and headed back to the piano for the next set of rambunctious music to distract his mind and body from the mysterious man consuming everything in Paul at that exact moment in time.


	3. Chapter 3

A loud knock woke Paul from fitful sleep. Since his moment in the courtyard with John was clouding his thoughts, he refused to succumb to the urge that was breaking him down. Rather than tug off to the thought of that mysterious man pleasuring him, he opted to drink a half bottle of whiskey to make his stiff dick pass out. Surely he had only been out for a few hours when the blasted interruption tore through him.

Whipping open the door, ready to thump the person to blame for the unwelcome interruption, he was stopped when he saw the very person of his infatuation. Leaned confidently against the doorjamb, glasses lowered on his nose, pleased as punch to obviously be disturbing the pretty piano player . Paul was a mess of greased hair, half buttoned trousers with suspenders still attached, and a crumpled linen shirt open to expose his pale skin, scattered sparsely with dark hairs and pert nipples. Whispering into the darkness, “Good morning princess.” “The fuck you want? It’s the middle of the night.” Acting irritated, his heart secretly beat faster. “I want to show you something, now get dressed.” Pushing away from the door, John nodded his head to follow him downstairs. 

He didn’t know why he complied; he could have just as easily told the man to fuck off, and crawled back into bed. Something in him became giddy, as if they were making to nick the till, or get into some other riff raff. Paul could use with a bit of mischief. He dressed quickly, grabbing his boots and hat in an attempt to cover the mess of hair. Cautiously he took the knife from his bedside drawer, and slipped in down into the insole of his boot. He didn’t trust anyone one in this town, and for all he knew, Lennon could have planned on killing him on the hillside for the buzzards to peck at.

In no longer than five minutes, Paul tiptoed down the carpeted stairs, empty and dark, the saloon was closed. Save for the working girls moaning behind the walls, the hall was deserted. When he walked out of the building, standing alone in the dirt street was John, peering up at the sky, hands in his pockets. Paul approached him, but he didn’t register the man next to him until Paul proceeded to light a cigarette. Taking that first drag, he coughed. “Just about sunrise, thought we could go on a bit of an adventure.” John broke his concentration on the stars fading in the sky, before looking down at Paul with a smile. He knew in that moment, he wanted to go on many adventures with this man. Always cautious and untrusting, his gut told him to follow John anywhere.

“Alright then, you lead the way.” Paul smiled back, gesturing down the main road. The two walked side by side, a few blocks south to the end of town. Shoulders bumped, and elbows brushed a few times, “oh sorry lad, how clumsy of me.” John teased as he then touched said body parts with light fingers warm against the thin layer of Paul’s oversized shirt. Knocking into him with playful digs, it felt like they were the only two people in the town.

When they approached a corral, John led his horse out quietly, not disturbing any of the others. “It will take too long on foot, hop on up.” Paul had never ridden a horse; he had no idea what he was getting into. When John mounted the beast effortlessly and extended his hand to give him a boost, he gladly took his calloused hand, and settled on the back of the animal, with John casually pressed against his body. Reminding himself this was merely a mode of transportation to wherever they were headed, he tried to ignore the intimate touch of where John began and Paul ended. Softly trotting through the end of town, when they reached the winding dirt road that led to Spearfish, they began to move at a faster pace.

Jostling in the dark and lack of support to grab on to, made Paul panic briefly as his hand clenched the saddle horn, and the thigh of the man behind him. “Don’t worry princess, I’ve got you.” With that, a strong forearm wrapped around his midsection securely showed Paul that indeed, he ‘got him.’ He nearly complained about the demeaning use of calling him ‘princess’, but in his current state, the nickname was appropriate.

The horse cantered further down the road, until they turned off a hidden path that cut across a creek bed. Climbing up the side of a tree-lined hill, the breeze blew across the pines creating a hauntingly beautiful sound, followed by the fresh aroma of earth and leaves. Closing his eyes, Paul relished in the peaceful setting. Since arriving, his adventures hadn’t taken him anywhere like this. John forged on the winding switchback, clicking his tongue at the horse when the incline caused the animal to falter. “Almost there, just a bit further.” 

True to his word, a clearing ahead came into view. A field of tall green grass and wildflowers grew in abundance. Coming to a halt, John dismounted, pulling Paul down gently to be beside him. The sky had lightened to a periwinkle, seeing that they were facing east; it was only a matter of time before the sun would rise up over the tree line. 

Letting the horse wander to nibble on grass, Paul followed John to the edge of the field, to a cluster of limestone. Side by side, they sat and watched the sky change from purple to pink to orange, and everything in between. As they leaned back, with their legs stretched out in front of them, and their palms flat on the ground behind them, Paul couldn’t be certain, but he thought he felt the fingers of Mr. Lennon brush over the back of his. He turned his head slightly, waiting for reaction, only to see a brief smile on John’s lips as he hummed and enjoyed the now risen sun upon his face. To Paul, John’s profile was beautiful, and he wondered how he could feel that confidently to someone he barely knew.

A few more minutes of silence as the sun was fully in the sky now, and the soft rumble of hunger in Paul’s belly interrupted the solitude between the two men. “Sounds like you could use some breakfast.” John stood up, dusting the rear of his pants from the stray dirt and grass that had stuck to him. “I am a bit hungry,” Paul added as he got up and followed John back to the horse. 

Getting on the animal with more confidence, Paul got on first. John was a bit more careful to how close he got to Paul, although secretly Paul was enjoying the intimate contact after so long of being alone. When they started up the mountain higher, John spoke softly to Paul, “I live up here, not many people know that, but I wanted to show you.” Paul turned to look at the man so close to him; he could smell the scent of his soap. “Why are you sharing this with me?” Trotting along the dirt path, he pressed his chest into the strong shoulder blades of Paul. Relishing in the touch, Paul gently leaned back, closing his eyes to absorb the forest around him, and the comfortable trust. Whispering his lips against the skin of Paul’s ear, “Because you intrigue me, remember?” With a chuckle of laughter, Paul felt the vibrations through his back and into his heart.

The cabin was hidden away from prying eyes, small and quaint, with odds and ends scattered in the grass surrounding the homestead. Hanging in the trees, wooden chimes tinkered tones of music in the air. A hammock tied to a stump and a painting easel sat near the front door. Chopped logs and a fire ring centered around built chairs and a table. Brightly painted flags and fabrics hung like a canopy down the roofline to protect from the midday sun. To Paul, the space seemed like the epitome of happiness.

When they dismounted, John tied up “Buckley” to the makeshift fence, a shaggy dog barked and howled as he ran down the sloped mountain behind the cabin. Running to greet her master, John introduced Paul to Martha. “Hello girl, aren’t you beautiful!” Paul loved dogs, the friendly pounce of her into his arms made him hug her tighter, it had been so long since he had petted a dog, he almost forgot how wonderful they were. Many licks and ear scratches were had before John said, “Alright Martha my dear, that is enough before you scare poor Paulie away.” He looked up at John after giving the shaggy dog one more pat, “It takes a lot more to scare me away Johnny.” 

Their day was spent getting to know each other; John cooked a delicious breakfast of salted ham, eggs and Johnnycakes. Campfire coffee, and nips of moonshine whiskey were enjoyed as they walked and explored the property. “How long have you lived out here?” Paul was enamored with the piece of heaven John considered home, about 20 acres was his. “I came to America about eight years ago, but we moved here five years ago.” Paul had heard the word ‘we’ and his stomach plummeted. He wanted to know more, but it could have been a loaded question. Before he could ask his follow up question, John had already begun to divulge.

“I’m a painter by trade, after Stuart died, I needed steady income, Mr. Epstein had commissioned us for his artwork in the saloon and hotels, so he knew I was reliable. So, now when I need a little extra dosh, I fill in when I can.” John took a sip from his tin coffee cup, and then proceeded to shed his jacket and roll his sleeves up now that the sun was beginning to warm the air. “If I may ask, who was Stuart?” Paul shouldn’t have been so nosey, but he wanted to know more. John stood up from their seats near the fire, and proceeded to chuck a few more logs onto it. With his back turned away from Paul, he spoke quickly, and casual. “He was me best friend, taught me everything in life including art. He was talented, and beautiful. I loved him very much. And then the stupid prick went and died on me.” Although his words about Stuart were ambiguous, Paul understood. John and Stuart had been lovers. “I’m very sorry John, when did he die?” John wiped his brow and sat back down in his seat next to Paul. “Oh let’s see, the cholera outbreak was about three years back, nearly wiped out the whole town.” John seemed to be reflecting on the timeline of his life here. “Is that how he died? From cholera?” Paul wanted to know, for some reason he felt like he had to know. “No,” John darkly laughed, hiding the still apparent pain of the loss. “No not that, thank god, Stuart just went asleep one night, and never woke up.” Paul’s heart ached, the broken way John described the loss of his lover, was too hard to bear. He had never had a loss like that, trying to imagine that was in comprehendible. “I’m so sorry John…” Paul touched his hand to Johns and squeezed it gently. Realizing what was happening, John jumped up in order to stop the pain of the emotions from resurfacing.

“Christ, it’s going to be scorching today.” John began to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. “Let’s go fishing, and for a dip. What do you say?” Paul liked the idea of a cooling swim, since the day was increasingly getting warmer. “Sounds all kind of good in my book.” Grabbing a few supplies, John led Paul down another path behind the cabin where a small brook babbled down the path. Soon he could hear the louder rush of falls into a pool. When they came to the bottom of the trail, a small but clear mountain stream and falls appeared, looking quite inviting.

They fished a short time, only to come up empty handed, “Nothing’s biting today, too hot for the trout even.” Discarding his shirt over his head, Paul watched as John began to undress, as casually as if he were alone. Removing his hat, and glasses, gently tucking them in the soft fabric to stay safe from the rocks. Lastly, he discarded his boots and trousers. Standing stark naked, with his bare backside exposed to Paul, he waded into the pool. Hoots and hollers of the chill echoed in the valley. “Well if that’s how good it feels, you are really making me want to get in now!” Paul joked with him.

Dunking under the water, when John emerged he looked completely different, his dark eyes wide and playful, as he splashed Paul on the shore. “C’mon Paulie, get in, the water’s fine.” Holding John’s gaze, he undressed. Not seductively, but he was very aware John was studying him. When he got to the last of his undergarments, he made a point to hold onto John’s eye contact. Watching as John slightly blushed and bit his lower lip. Now he was completely exposed, nothing to hide from John now. Paul waded in, feeling the shocking cold hit his legs. “Fuck Lennon, it’s freezing!” Paul decided to submerge fully to try and get the worst over. 

Getting used to the chill, they swam and splashed and laughed together in the hot afternoon sun. Talking about life growing up in England, Paul in Liverpool, and John in Manchester. Soon their skin wrinkled and they made their way up to the limestone rocks to dry out in the mountain air. Naked as the day they were born, they lie side by side. Droplets of water dripping from their heads as they closed their eyes, facing the heat of the sun, the afternoon was one of the best of his life. Paul reflected on how easy conversation with John was, as well as the physical attraction he could no longer deny he felt for the man.

“John?” Paul asked softly as he turned on his side to look over the lean, freckled body of the man he was beginning to have feelings for. “Mmhmm,” John’s eyes were closed, as he responded to Paul’s inquiry. “Thank you for this, for bringing me here.” After his words were spoken, Paul softly touched the skin of John’s taunt stomach, wavering slightly as his eyes indulged in the very masculine but very sexy body of the man next to him. Opening his eyes to the touches on his body, John held his breath as he watched and felt Paul’s explorations. “Is this okay? Can I touch you?” Paul’s voice was shaky and nervous; John had assumed Paul had never been with a man before, his assumptions were correct when Paul spoke again. “I don’t know what it is about you, John, but I want to feel you.” Leaning closer now, he stared down into John’s deep brown eyes. “All of you.” Paul’s mouth trembled lightly as he connected his full lips to John’s, wet from the creek water. Deepening the kiss John pulled him closer, his fingers cupping the damp, thick hair of the beautiful man, who had made the first move. His tongue begging for entrance, as Paul opened his mouth for John’s hungry kisses, the sensation was beyond his comprehension, and as John moved on his side to face Paul, their legs entwined.

Feeling the hardness of John’s dick against his own caused Paul to moan out in pleasure, he had never thought something like this could feel so good, so right. Panting into John’s mouth, Paul begged, “Please, touch me. Oh please John.” Thrusting his hips closer, John cradled Paul in his strong arms and kissed trails down the alabaster skin of his neck, enjoying the keening sounds he made, while he gently tugged and gripped Paul’s aching cock. The dampness from their bodies made the friction better, and soon, John stroked the both of them in his hand, as the velvet skin rubbed together, sinfully delightful. 

Finding Paul’s hot mouth, John kissed him deeply, lovingly. It had been too long since John had felt a man’s touch, and Paul was beautiful, and smart and all around amazing since he had first laid eyes on him. Thinking of the man, whose gorgeous prick was in his hand, John tugged them harder, until Paul cried out his name. Coming together, the stickiness between the two bodies felt incredible. 

With a few more light pecks, Paul was floating on a cloud of bliss. The sun in the sky was starting to lower, and soon the perfect day with John would be coming to an end. Paul didn’t want to think about that right now, all he wanted in that moment was to be held, and showered with affection by the man who opened his eyes to adventures he’d never known.


	4. Chapter 4

Paul struggled in the days following his tryst with John. When he was brought back to town after the peaceful encounter, it seemed that person he was up on the mountain was not who he really was. The gentle touches and caresses of skin felt divine, and his release was euphorically good, better than any in recent memory, but the fact still remained, John was a man. 

He wasn’t sure when they would see each other again, parting at the end of town so that Paul could walk in on his own, they kissed, more out of affection than a “thank you” for the quick wank. Still, as his skin hummed from the recent, illicit activities, he knew what he had just done had been wrong. He had forgotten himself, and realized he was being stupid with his feelings. Men don’t show affection to other men. He tried to convince himself the interaction between he and John was out of loneliness, on both of their parts.

Immersing himself into work, he helped haul supplies to the hotel, clean up as needed, any task. Even going so far as chaperoning Linda to the chemist for a tincture for a skin rash. It had been three days, and no sign of John, not that he cared, mind you. 

On the walk back to the saloon, Linda and he diverted to the market down the side alley, she had wanted to purchase a new garment. “You’ve been very quiet, Paul. Cat got your tongue, darling?” Wiping his brow with a red handkerchief, he followed Linda to the dusty mercantile, “Don’t think so, just trying to get settled in, acclimated to it all. Bit of an adjustment to Chicago.” “I’d imagine so!” Linda interjected. “You disappeared a few days back, Jane and I were worried you had been kidnapped. Must be careful out there, it is dangerous. On a different level than Chicago, too!” Outside the building in the market stall, she analyzed lace stocking that were on display in the window. “Come inside with me.”

The shop was much quieter than the haggles and shouting from the vendors outside. Pretty dresses and dapper suits were on display, as Paul looked down at his own worn out and dated pants and vest. Realizing it had been quite a while since he had purchased any new clothes. Breaking his adoration for a charcoal wool suit he was admiring, “So where did you drift off to?” Linda asked casually. Pushing the images of swimming playfully and laughing close with John out of his memory he replied, “John and I went fishing for the day, and hiking through the hills. Just getting to know the area, you know?” Shrugging off the information.

Linda’s eyes widened at Paul after he had divulged his activities. “John Lennon? The man who comes and goes as he pleases from the bar?” Paul assumed from her reaction that others might not have hit it off as well as he had. “Yes, same one, is there something wrong with John?” Paul asked slightly protective. Linda hadn’t wanted to scare away the new piano player with rumors of Lennon’s lifestyle. “Darling, it’s a known fact he’s a queer. Why do you think he lives so far outside of town? He’s basically exiled, after his lover died, he tried to proposition others. Nearly ended up dead himself after a drunken grope to the wrong customer, if you get what I mean?” As Linda spilled the secrets of John’s personal affairs, she continued to shop around the store, admiring pretty things while she shaded the name of the man Paul himself was enamored with. 

He tried not to react, so what if John was openly queer? By associating with him, was Linda implying Paul was too? “Well, I thought he was alright, good fishing partner.” Cutting her off before she could spew more negative words about John. “Shopkeeper, might I try this on?” Gesturing to the suit, he decided he wanted to spend some of his hard earned wages. 

Leaving in a brand new dapper, gray pinstripe suit, shoes and hat, Paul felt like a new man in town. A new man that perhaps was fine with associating with a queer man, despite the prejudice of others around. What Linda had failed to see was that John was just like everyone else, he had suffered pain, heartbreak and sadness. He realized what he was beginning to feel, strong affection for a man who could never quite fit it. 

When he and Linda arrived back to their respectable rooms, she thanked him for his company, and retired. Seeing it was late afternoon, and actual work wouldn’t be for a few more hours, he opened the two windows of his room that faced the tree line. Although now it was late August, the air was lighter when the cool breeze wafted in through the fine lace curtains. Shadows danced on the walls, and Paul breathed deeply the fresh air as he lie upon his soft bed. Deciding to enjoy a quick rest, he had undressed from his fine new suit, and placed it carefully over the back of the chair in the corner.

In his linen undergarments, he closed his eyes thinking of the memory a few days earlier when he rode up the mountain, and smelled the air similar to the breeze blowing into his tiny room now. A gentle knock on his door broke his reminiscing. “Paul, it’s Jane, I need your help.” Grumbling to himself, he didn’t want to move, covering himself with a light blanket, “Door’s open.” If she saw he was in bed, perhaps she’d leave him alone. 

Hurriedly, she entered and closed the door with a slam. Dressed only in a silk embroidered robe, her hair was piled high on her head, loose tendrils hanging down, framing her pale face. When she realized he was in bed, she didn’t excuse her self like he had hoped. “Well? What do ya’ need? Woke a man from his afternoon rest, if this is about the arrangement of ‘Summertime Lovers’ I told you it’s fine, and we don’t need to change it.” He was frustrated and from the look on her face, she didn’t seem to care. Hovering over him, she stood next to the bed; letting the silk robe fall down her thin shoulders, skin peeking out to him. She placed her delicate fingers over the blanket directly covering his cock, now piqued with interest. Sitting up on his elbows, his attention on the mischievous red head, slowly stroking his thigh and package, gently.

“I need your help with some tension. You see Paul, if we are going to be musical partners, I’m going to need you to help me with other needs that I may have from time to time.” Taking her hand away from his lap, she dropped the robe completely. Confidently standing bare to him. Her small breasts high and pert with pink nipples like the buds of a rose, the narrow of her waist, a tiny bit of tummy that bumped out just above the ginger curls leading to her desire. Paul gave her his full attention, now.

“What about Mr. Epstein’s rules?” Paul listened to himself after he uttered the words, Christ he had sex waiting for him and his brain could only think of breaking the house rules. Realizing how daft he sounded, he shook his head to show Jane what an idiot he had been. She giggled as she slowly began to straddle his hips, taking the blanket off of his lower half, exposing his aroused state. “Oh my!” Jane ogled with surprise. “Look at this Big Boy!” Paul was flattered, and blushed a bit at her praise. Leaning up he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her mouth to his. Covering his lips with her hand, “No kissing, this is only a fuck Paul.” Consenting to the transaction, he did his best to follow along with Jane, who obviously knew what she wanted.

She was rather bossy in bed, all kinds of comments, “Don’t touch there, do it like this….” Paul felt like he was being used, and not in a way that was overly fun. It did feel good, her hips rocking in his lap, her wet snatch pulling him in deep. When he got a steady rhythm going, she’d move and expect him to change positions. Including licking her just right, he had missed the flavor of eating out a woman, but the idea of a business transaction, made this romp a little less exciting. From Paul’s skillful tongue, she climaxed, quite loudly. Hopeful for his pleasure, he moved on top of her to finish off. His hips thrusting wildly as he licked and nipped at her breasts, soon feeling the tingle in his lower belly getting ready for release. In his moment of climax, he noticed her lack of enthusiasm and almost boredom as she lay below him. Pulling away from her he pumped his prick a few more times, spilling onto her white skin.

He fell back onto his bed, panting. Jane rolled over, wiping her belly with his blanket; she stood up to gather her silk robe in a pile on the floor. “Thanks for that, see you later.” Just like that, his anticipated shag was over, after weeks of thinking of little else. As he recovered from his orgasm, his mind wandered back to the moment with John. It was intimate, their touches genuine and reciprocated. Not like what he had just had with Jane. He was certain that when he came from the touch of John’s hand, his release was more pleasurable than this romp. He rolled over, facing the windows to take a deep inhale of the sweet mountain air. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought of John and his dog Martha, and what splendid adventures they were having just out of reach of where Paul was residing.

***

That night, the bar was rowdier than usual, fights had broken out sooner than most nights, which meant people were drinking more and not giving many tips to the entertainers. Muddling through their repertoire, Paul ignored Jane, and she pretended as nothing had happened between them earlier. He was acting childish, but knew he’d get over it, hopefully the interaction from before wouldn’t become a regular thing.

When he took his break in the courtyard, a familiar face approached him. “You sound good tonight, playing with a lot of emotion, I can tell.” The smile across John’s face warmed his soul. “Hey, there you are. Out having adventures while I’m stuck in there?” He teased the man, but deep down he had never been more relieved to be in his presence. “I just came by to tell you, I got a gig. Going to be painting a portrait of this railroad baron’s new nineteen- year old wife. They are staying on the north side, at the Black Hills Inn.” He spoke with excitement, and Paul was happy for him. “That’s really great John, I’m glad for you.” Shuffling their feet in the gravel, Paul waited for John’s next words. “Er, they got me a room there as well, so I can paint her during the short duration of their time here.” After he said the words, he looked deeply in Paul’s eyes, waiting for his reaction. He was going to be in town, alone in his own room, with no prying eyes to see. The weight of the circumstances should have made him feel uncomfortable, but the butterfly sensation in his stomach said otherwise.

Before another word was exchanged, John grabbed his forearm, pulling him into the darkest corner of the building when an eruption of laughter echoed from out of the dance hall. The touch of his hand, sent shivers down his back, and Paul pulled the man closer to him as they found solace in the dark. “Paul?” John whispered into his ear, as he closed his eyes and pictured the words spilling from John’s lips as they writhed in passion on the clean white sheets of a hotel bed. “Yes, yes, I’ll come to you, to your room.” He exhaled, already aroused at the prospect. He heard a deep chuckle, as John’s lips lightly traced over the warmness of Paul’s cheek. “Room 9, at the Inn, I’ll wait for you.” Closing his eyes to capture everything to memory, Paul replied in a hushed breath, “I’ll be there. Tonight.” With the confirmation of their reunion, the two parted their separate ways.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been gone way too long! Sorry for the delay, but I think this will make up for it.

What was he doing? Walking to the furthest point of town, in the darkest point of night, all for an illicit interaction with another man. He justified it, not just any man, John. 

In a short amount of time, Paul was certain he was under a spell for the mysterious man from the forest. At first, the feelings were from the lack of female company, but now, after the shag earlier that day, he was certain the lust for John was much deeper.

Ignoring the shady business deals taking place in the tight alleys between buildings, he kept his head down. Keeping an eye out for pickpockets, and for the Inn where John said he would be waiting for him. Waiting for their reunion, which already caused his dick to harden in his new suit.

Finding the posh place was easy, he had yet to visit this side of Deadwood, which appeared to appeal to the ‘wealthier visitor’ passing through. Although ‘Black Hills’ was the name, the hotel was crisp white, complete with Roman columns decorating the front and gaslight lamps illuminating the front doors. Good thing he had a wash, and was dressed clean cut because he doubted he would have been allowed into such an upscale establishment.

Being well after 2 am, there was no activity in the well-lit lobby. An older mustached man stood behind the white marble desk, “Good evening, may I help you sir?” Paul must have appeared lost in the architecture and smell of fresh paint. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m looking for room number nine.” Opening the guest book register, he scrolled down the page with a stiff index finger. “Ah yes, Mr. Lennon mentioned he would be having a guest arriving later, his room is up the stairs, very last room on the left.” Nodding politely, Paul dipped his hat in a thank you.

His heart thudded against his sternum, how would it go? As he took slow steps down the corridor, he tried to steady his breath, and mind. Not wanting to appear desperate for John’s touch, he had a hard time fathoming what exactly they could do. All he knew was he wanted John; any way he could have him. Nearly to the last room, the door was slightly ajar, and light spilled out in a neat crack, illuminating the flower-carpeted floor beneath his feet.

When he pushed the door open lightly, the soft pant and jangle of a metal collar was the first sensation Paul felt. Martha greeted him with whimpers of affection and licks as Paul immediately fell to his knees on the ground to scruff up the furry lovable pup. “You’re late.” Looking up, John was seated in a wing-backed chair, feet up on the ottoman, wearing nothing but a burgundy robe and sketching with charcoal onto a board with parchment. His eyes didn’t leave the paper as Paul began to wander into the room fully. 

Careful to keep his eyes on John the entire time, Paul discarded his hat, tossing it onto another unoccupied chair. Followed by his suit jacket and tie. When he stood in front of the distracted artist, ready for his touch, the man drawing still proceeded to appear aloof. “Almost finished, darling.” A few more rough passes of his hand over the paper, and Paul was thrumming with want, he didn’t feel he could wait any longer. Before jumping into the lap of the artist, John spun the board around to show him what exactly he had been spending his time on while he waited.

“Is that me?” Paul pulled the board closer, analyzing the figure laying supine with muscled thighs flexed in a position showing his masculine assets, unabashedly on display. He felt the blush rise in his cheeks as he studied the risqué sketch, finding himself turned on more at the idea John had captured his likeness quite well. 

Studying Paul’s reaction carefully, “It is you, it’s how I want to see you.” Standing up now, they were almost the same height. Paul appeared up from the drawing, looking at John with lust in his eyes. “Your beauty would make the angels in the Sistine chapel weep, Paul. You’re an artists dream, you know that?” Taking the board from Paul’s grip, he set it aside to focus on the man in front of him.

Reaching for the buttons of his crisp white shirt, the smudges of charcoal on his fingers lightly traced over Paul’s pale throat. Swallowing a lump, Paul remained still, on the verge of arousal so heady, he wondered how he was still composed. The freedom from the tight confines around his neck, allowed him to expel a held breath. “John.” Grasping the wrist that worked on removing his shirt, he searched for the right words. “I want to be yours.” Looking deeply into the dark eyes of the artist, “Make me yours.” 

When their lips touched again, after days of being apart, Paul felt as if his insides were on fire. Hastily their hands grabbed and pulled at the fabric restraining them the warmth of flesh. If their touches were tentative by the creek, the haste of tonight’s anticipated pleasure threw them over the edge of want.

Abruptly falling onto the bed, John’s robe was open, giving Paul a glimpse at his engorged cock hovering over his cloth covered crotch. Lifting his hips, he wanted to be free of his confines as John’s mouth latched onto his exposed chest, nipping hard at the flesh just above his nipple. Paul writhed, emitting a groan of pleasure at the fresh bite mark. John was wild, his touches were driving Paul mad, and he needed more. Moving his weight to switch their positions, he soon was on top of the man, straddling his naked body.

He unbuttoned his trousers slow; knowing he needed a moment to catch his breath. While John watched in anticipation, he rubbed his hands over the narrow thighs of Paul’s legs. With baited breath, he sighed as Paul removed his dick casually, stroking it slightly, teasing John. Gripping his thighs tighter, he slid lower, silently begging for his mouth to be filled with dripping cock.

When the thin lips of John’s mouth engulfed the heat of his erection, Paul hissed “John, oh God, yes.” Closing his eyes to the pleasure he never would have imagined could be so good. John lapped and tasted all Paul could give, slightly thrusting into his mouth, deeper while John grasped at his firm ass. Before, the touch of his fingers were heavenly, right now, Paul was certain nothing was better than John’s skillful mouth. With fingers tightened in the locks of auburn hair, Paul was close, and groaned deeper, telling John so. Taking him further into his throat, John hummed in approval, signaling he was ready for all Paul would give him. The vibrations tore through his groin, releasing his load; his body shook as he hovered over John. Pulling away, John proceeded to lick around the head of his now spent cock, allowing the sticky substance to cover his now red lips, holding Paul’s attention while he made a dramatic display of eating up every drop.

Although his balls were spent, Paul’s climactic afterglow kept his arousal going. He wanted to give John the same pleasure, in another way. He understood how queer men fucked; he had even done the act with a whore back in Chicago. When he told John to make him his, he wasn’t going to hesitate. There was a need in him to be filled, claimed by John. He wanted nothing more than to feel the man inside him, never before had he felt the desire before this moment, and now, he wanted John to take him.

Taking the rest of his clothing off, he continued to touch and kiss the man who just gave him the most pleasurable orgasm of his life. Feeling John’s arousal against his leg, Paul continued a trail of kisses down his throat, hearing the delicious sounds of the well-experienced man next to him. Moving his hand lower to grip the rather large prick soon to fill him. “John, look at me.” Pausing their touches, John’s unwavering attention focused on the hazel eyes of the beauty above him. He smiled, as he listened, a little nervous of what Paul was about to say. Stroking the soft skin of Paul’s shoulders, he could lay like this forever. Leaning into another soft kiss against the slightly salty lips, Paul whispered, “I want to feel you, inside of me.” Unsure of what he had heard properly, John looked stunned at Paul’s confession.

“We don’t have to, you know, there are other things…” Paul stopped his thoughts, he knew what he wanted from the man, and he hoped John was willing to provide it. “I’ve never wanted someone, as much as I want you. I know I’ve never done this, but I want you to, I need you to.” 

The pleading in his voice was turning him on, John hadn’t been with a man like that since Stuart, and to him the idea of it was more out of an act of love. With Stuart, they had shared in the act, taking turns, while John preferred to receive the act, he didn’t want to deprive Paul of his curiosity. Raising a teasing eyebrow, John smiled at the lad. “How do you want it?” Moving cautiously down his body, keenly aware that he was beginning to be turned on again, even after his ball draining blowjob, John began to stroke him again. Panting soft breaths, Paul closed his eyes and imagined the way he had fantasized it in his mind, in the days leading up to this moment. “On top, so I can watch when you cum inside of me.” 

With that, John groaned out approval as he devoured Paul’s mouth, licking inside, claiming the man with his tongue. For someone who had never been with the same sex, his unwavering lust was music to John’s ears. Without even asking, he spread his thighs to make room, tugging lightly on his now fully hard prick, John shifted off the bed, leaving Paul whimpering alone. “Where are you going?” The coy pout on his mouth was deliciously naughty. “You want this to feel good don’t you? We are going to need some help with that.” Nodding to the slutty spread of Paul’s dark, hairy thighs.

He returned to the bed with a small pot of oily balm, dipping his fingers in the grease he wasted no time in touching the area of Paul’s desire. The light massage over the tight nerves caused him to moan in delight, the closer John got to him, the more aroused he became. Watching Paul come undone under his hand was more than he could have ever hoped for. Sliding in a slick finger, allowing Paul to adjust to the intrusion, gave way to an open mouthed moan and hips pressing back onto the digit. John watched his body react to the sensation, adding another finger, Paul clearly wanted this, more that John had expected he would.

Trying to hold off on his own arousal as he watched the ebony haired beauty thrust his pelvis onto the buried fingers, deeply massaging and stretching his ass, John was teetering on his own climax if he continued to watch Paul’s vocal display. Soon, he couldn’t take it anymore, and needed to feel the tight heat that had long been absent.

Babbling words of lust, Paul’s eyes focused on John’s movements, as he prepared to give him what he wanted, what they both wanted. Slicking his cock, John lowered himself onto Paul’s trembling body below him. Assuring him with deep kisses, he aligned himself and entered. Their two voices harmonized the pleasure of being filled, and being loved.

Slowly, they rocked together, wordlessly communicating; John couldn’t believe how amazing it felt, after such a long time. For Paul, the sensation was odd, but so satisfying, on a deeper level, he felt that perhaps this was the absence in his life he had been looking for.

As the pace increased, John kissed him harder, wrapping his legs around his back as he thrust deeper, pulling that pleasure filled moan from Paul’s lips as his cock rubbed inside him, arching into John, begging for him. He could hold back no more, sliding out of the clenching muscle, only to be pulled back in further, John’s breath caught, and he emptied himself into the work of art below him. Feeling the sensation heat his insides, Paul felt satisfied, as he too came again from the friction of their bodies entwined together in the unspeakable and sinful act.

In the moment following the tryst, neither separated. Relishing in the complete satisfaction they both found in each other. When the morning light broke through the curtains of the room, John clutch Paul’s body closer, nosing the sensitive skin behind his ear. He had found happiness again, and he didn’t want it to slip from his fingers this time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while since I updated, I actually thought of abandoning it since it's such a specific AU, but if more people read it, I'll keep updating!!
> 
> Enjoy xoxoxox

When the soft patter of rain on the window woke him, he stirred his sore body awake to the unfamiliar softness of the sheets wrapped around him. Alone and still, the room felt colder than the hours prior that were warm from passion. Lying on his back, he stared at the ornate ceiling, feeling the dull ache where an unknown secret had been unearthed, opening his eyes to an act he was certain he wanted more of. The one responsible for the pleasant pain was not in the room, and for that Paul felt discarded, alone with his thoughts of confusion. A light tapping of the hotel door, he squirmed to cover his nakedness in case it was a clerk. 

To his delight, it was the one person he was most eager to see, carrying in a tray of coffee and food. Pausing to close the door with his foot, he spoke softly to Paul as he set the silver platter on the table near the fireplace. “How are you this morning?” concern in his voice, wondering if the night’s affair was leaving a bit of doubt from the virginal man in his bed. “Much better now that you are here.” Moving in the blankets, Paul patted the space next to him, gesturing he wanted John beside him. Fully dressed, John walked slowly to the bed, extending his hand for Paul to pull him closer. Unexpectedly, he was pulled on top of the younger man with disheveled raven hair, mouth pressing hard against his.

It took only a moment for the contact to escalate, Paul moaned in his throat at the taste of coffee and tobacco on John’s tongue. Feeling alive against his touch, the fire in his gut wanted more, more of that delicious friction from only a few hours before that left him satiated in lust and euphoria. John had unleashed something wild in him, he’d had a taste of something forbidden and the hunger was consuming him. Nipping at John’s bottom lip, he held tight to the back of his neck, keeping the older man in place. Bodies began to stir awake, and the cold air of the room began to evaporate in the body heat.

“I see the acts of last night didn’t dissuade you.” Airy words spoken between bruising kisses, John was enamored by the man’s lust. “Not a chance,” chuckling softly, Paul deepened the kiss, allowing his tongue to delve further as he raised his naked pelvis into the hips of the attractive man on top of him. Feeling the need to dominate, Paul’s hand snaked under John’s loose linen shirt to grip the pale flesh of his sides, rolling the man over to be on top of him. 

Stopping the aggressive kiss, he gazed down at the red mouth of John, slightly abrasive from the rough brush of stubble. “You’ve awakened something in me John,” thrusting his lower body against the man, he began to remove the heavy wool trousers, hindering their contact. Closing his eyes, John was lost in bliss, this beautiful creature wanted him, and his thirst was insatiable.

Allowing the soft boy to undress him, with touches of callused fingers, the imprints of teeth marks leaving traces over his body where Paul took his time to taste and claim him. It was with a hesitant lick to his prick, he opened his eyes to focus on the wild eye contact he was being given, to gasp in the air when the hot, wet mouth of Paul enveloped him entirely. The look in his eyes showed John that Paul was wanting to give the same pleasure he had gotten. 

Pulling away from his lover’s cock, the young man mouthed the thick vein throbbing for release. “I want to be inside of you.” Telling John his exact plans only made the man wither in anticipation. God yes, the time alone had been taxing to his need, with Paul’s eager actions he relaxed into the bed to await the tantalizing feel of being filled.

Continuing the tasting of John’s body, the open mouth kisses and nips became harder, roughing up John’s skin with grabbing hands on the flesh of his thick thighs, he was moving to lay next to him. Pressing his urge against John’s backside, he bit hard into the muscle of his neck, causing John to cry out, whipping his head back to rest against the shoulder of his dominator. Paul reached for the balm on the table, with clumsy hands, coating his dick, not bothering to prepare the man on the receiving end. When he pressed against John’s hole, the resistance was almost a taunting challenge. Slapping hard to grip the solid flesh, Paul determindly entered John, with a gasp of sharp pain, the pleasure took a moment to find him.

Deeper into the man, keening through his teeth at the welcomed intrusion, Paul thrust hard, grabbing wildly at the taunt muscles of John’s abdomen. Harder he thrusted, changing the angle to lay on top of John as he panted, sweat soaked moans, the slap of skin driving his hips harder. 

When all at once, John saw stars in his eyes, as the pleasure within him erupted. Noticing the vocal change, Paul slowed his pace to take in the sight. Never had anyone felt as good as John clenching around him, he could die enveloped in the tight heat. Kissing over the glistening back of the man under him, he thrust a few more times before the pulsing ring of flesh tugged him tighter, and he emptied himself into John, with a guttural cry.

Hardly able to move from the shattering climax, Paul pulled out his still hard cock. Finding the flushed face of John, grinning happily into the pillow below him, he cupped his cheek and kissed the man tender. “I could do that with you every day of my life, and never be tired of it.” Breathless words spoken out of lust, John knew the kind, empty promises that sound right at the time, but soon turn to regret. He tried to focus on the post climactic caresses, but the ravaged boy next to him was blind to what the interaction was, purely sex. His fascination with John and his lifestyle would soon wane, and once again John would be alone.

They ate breakfast naked in the soiled covers of the sheets, stealing bites of biscuits and jam, with kisses and touches to their pinked flesh. The train whistle blew announcing the patrons arriving for John’s portrait session. This was where their moment of fleeting passion would end. Although he had the hotel for ten days, he didn’t anticipate to see much more of Paul with his time-consuming commission. The late nights would wear on him, and he anticipated his future nights alone while Paul played piano into the early morning hours.

When Paul kissed him goodbye, he promised to come back later that night. John agreed to the meeting, but he had already counted on being let down by the beautiful man he had made exquisite love to. He hated the doubt in his mind, but the town was fickle, and no one got out with a happy outcome. Paul will soon realize the time spent in John’s world of queer vice would only end in despair, therefore why try to make more of the emotions both of them obviously felt for each other.

Arriving to Epstein’s saloon, Paul was worse for wear. Hobbling a little from the night and day activities, he was exhausted, and couldn’t wait for a hot soak in the copper tub. Making his way in through the back, he tried to avoid any of the patrons and fellow employees, only to nearly make it all the way to his room before he was stopped by Linda.

“Where have you been?” asking like a mother would to her absent child. Paul was in no mood, “What concern is it of yours where I have been, I don’t recall needing to leave you a note to my whereabouts.” His bold statement took Linda by surprise. She was only trying to warn him that Brian Epstein himself was on the premises and looking for his absent piano player. “Darling, I really could care less what you are getting into, but Epstein is looking for you, and he was getting a bit nasty trying to find ya’” Her message went straight to his belly, and he felt a chill roll down his back. “Where is he?” Paul would think of an excuse, and find the man. Besides, he had played his gig, and was back in plenty of time before he went on with Jane for the dinner show. “Up in his office,” nodding to the double doors upstairs. “Thank you, Linda.” He broke his tough exterior to give her shoulder a squeeze of gratitude. “Don’t mention it honey.”

Knocking on the door to the massive office that housed the most important man in the town, he swallowed thick before the sing-song voice on the other side invited him in to enter. Not appearing up from his mahogany desk, Paul spoke first, “Excuse me Mr. Epstein, I was informed that you wished to speak to me.” Looking up, Brian scanned over the attractive man in front of him, and oh my yes! he was a delicious looking boy indeed. No wonder his barkeepers suggested the pretty face for additional ‘performances’ with clients and customers. Extending his hand, Paul shook it firmly.

“Mr. McCartney, I’ve only just arrived back here and I have heard so much about you, I only wanted to personally introduce myself and discuss another opportunity I have for you.” Standing up to walk over to his private bar, he poured himself and Paul a snifter of good brandy. Taking the glass, he clinked reluctantly before taking a drink. “You see Paul, I have a private party coming in the next few nights, some investors from California, and I’d like you to play some private shows to the audience.” Well, that sounded fine by him, as long as he was being compensated. “I think that should be just fine Mr. Epstein, so long as I’m paid for the extra time.” “Oh, don’t worry, you will be, however this is a bit more demanding than your usual performance.” Did he want a new repertoire? Would he have to sing? “I’m sure I can handle whatever you need.” Confidently sounding the professional.

“That is what I was hoping you’d say. You see, Paul, May I call you Paul?” nodding in approval, he listened further to what Mr. Epstein intended. “These investors are bringing their spouses and after hours of talk and business, they need a little bit of relaxation. Which is why a private concert has been requested.” “Not a problem there, sir.” Paul stated, waiting for the catch. He took a drink from the glass, wincing at the sweet burn. “I want these clients taken care of, anything they want, which is why Richard and George will also be in attendance to help you.” Trying to follow the logic of the performance, Paul was not catching on. “You see Paul, when my investors come to this establishment, they expect pleasure, and that is the business I provide.” So, Epstein expected him to play piano and fuck some old bitties for a little extra cash. Although he had done something similar in the past, the weight of the transaction stopped him from thinking about it further.

“Will you need my services tonight sir? Paul asked, trying to remain aloof to the fact he was already planning on dipping out after his last set for another night of passion with John across town in their private room of lust. “Yes, please be prepared to work later this evening, and tomorrow to accommodate, I shall compensate you an additional 50% of your weekly wages for this private function.” Nodding gratefully, Paul stood to leave. “Oh, and Paul, please let us know of your whereabouts when you are not in the saloon. Deadwood is a rough place, and I really can’t deal with another dead piano player.” 

Leaving the confines of the ornate office, Paul made way to his meager room. Thinking only of letting John down. He couldn’t send a message, he would be in his portrait session, and he didn’t need to arouse suspicion by sending a messenger. He would just have to see him tomorrow, and explain the demands of his employer. His chest tightened at the thought of standing him up, but John would understand, surely, he knew the world of Brian Epstein’s business.

Across the town, in a private suite, John sketched the young woman in her exquisite ball gown for her portrait. Thinking back on the sweet memories of his night with Paul. In a few short hours their reunion would happen, and although he had doubts, he saw the eagerness in Paul’s eyes for their next moments together. The beat of his heart skipped a little faster at the thought of the kind man he was falling deep for. He could hardly wait for the feel of Paul’s mouth on his own, and the sweet love they would make again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been gone for so long! Sorry for the delay, this is a short and sweet chapter I needed to add to get the story moving along. Let me know what you think??
> 
> **Trigger Warning! Non-Con/ Rape**

It was well after midnight when the storm rolled into the town. With his window open to let in the cool air, the fine lace curtains billowed into the room, spooking Martha from her nap at John’s feet. A growl of worry echoed in the room, “It’s all right my dear, just a little rain to wash away the day.” John patted her softly to calm the uneasy pet. In that moment, the wind howled, and picked up a gust slamming the window hard against the wall. Martha barked, as the breeze blew out the flame of the oil lamp on the night stand. 

John jumped up and closed the windows, before the pellets of hailstones hit. The lightening crashing lit up the room, allowing the eerie light to cast across the space, thunder shaking the walls of the building. Moving to the soft blankets of the bed, he gathered Martha up with him, comforting her as she shook with fear of the dangerous storm outside. “It’s ok girl, it will pass soon.” Seeking comfort with the fuzzy animal, he hugged her tight. “Let’s hope Paul is safe, and he isn’t out in this mess, right girl?” Scratching the coarse fur of her back, John listened to his daft words of concern. Of course, he wasn’t out in this mess, he’s found another activity to occupy his night.

He hadn’t come, and now with the storm, he wouldn’t come. John had kept busy with writing and sketching, hopeful that when the light knocking on the door would occur, he would know what to do when Paul arrived. Would he jump into the arms of his young lover? Shower him with words of love and devotion? Explain to him that every thought in his mind was consumed by his beauty and charm. Not possible, with the way Paul lived his life. He had made it clear to John, he was living his life as an adventure, one day at a time. Today, he played piano in Deadwood, tomorrow panning for gold in California. Nowhere in his adventures did he have time for a love-sick painter. Pathetic really. 

John cuddled close to Martha as the wind and rain pressed on outside his window. He knew better than to let his heart get attached, yet he couldn’t stop himself. Knowing what Paul had said about being intimate with him, gave him hope that perhaps he was a part of Paul’s adventure. Although, current circumstances made it clear to John where he stood in the grand scheme of things. He had to get over the daydreams of happiness with the beautiful man who had captured his soul. Tonight would be washed away with the rain, and tomorrow was anew, away from Paul’s charms.

*****************

Across town, drunken fingers slammed the keys of ivory in the private quarters of Epstein’s Saloon. Velvet fringed curtains, a fountain of champagne and smoky clouds of opium and tobacco blurred his vision. The night wore on with excess of food, drink and sex. Heavily intoxicated, Paul sat playing a mess of notes on the piano, while the wild, black hair of the Japanese woman pooled on top of the piano, where her naked body lie. 

She insisted on a private concert, just the two of them, where she smoked her black tar in the ceramic pipe, opening her mouth to blow the bitter smoke into the plushy mouth of the musician. He hadn’t wanted it, had seen the dens in Chicago, pitiful waifs incapable of coherent sentences, but her broken words made it impossible. “See here boy, I pay for you. You do what I want.” With that, she pressed her mouth to his, giving no room for negotiating. The affects were stronger than he anticipated, his limbs felt like lead, and keeping alert was nearly impossible. 

Suffice to say, with the slow pulse of opium in his veins, his ability to perform in all aspects was dwindling. Sliding her naked self-down towards the front of the piano, clunking the keys, she straddled her mature body across his flaccid lap. Curling long fingernails under his chin, his eyes slits of glazed bloodshot, her black pupils bore into him as he tried to focus on the task being asked of him. 

Raking her other hand through sweat soaked tendrils on his head, she leaned in to whisper in his throbbing ears. “Look at me boy.” Trying to register the dead weight of his arms attempting to wrap around her hips, he couldn’t find it in himself to get aroused. He lolled his head, a weak attempt at pushing away from this wicked cretin, “No, no….no” his words shouting out in his head, only a weak whisper into her face. Clenching her thighs around him, to keep him in place, she hugged him to her breast.

“Yes, yes, now you fuck me. You do that, boy?” Reaching for his hardly half-aroused cock, Paul groaned out in anger, attempting to push her off of him, the scuffle had him land on the plush rug below, keeping her in place on top of him. He thrashed, to no avail if he was even moving, or if the floor had swallowed him up. The movements only encouraged her, guiding his hand to grope and penetrate where his manhood couldn’t function, she used him to the best of her ability. 

It was many hours later before he was discovered by a member of the cleaning staff, lying in a state of undress, in the same position on the rug where he last had memory of falling into the floor that took him under like quicksand. His head pounded, the vague memory of the prior nights event, caused the bile in his stomach to lurch. Seeing a nearby brass spittoon, he crawled over and emptied the contents of his stomach into the foul-smelling receptacle. 

By the time he registered the sun in the sky, and the hour of the day, it was too late to even try to make it to see John. How could he have let this happen? He was doing his job, so why did if feel like everything was slipping away? He had let John down, he had to explain what happened to him the night before, he would understand, he had to. In that moment, with the headache so fierce if felt like death, Paul was unsure if John would understand what had actually happened to him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten a lot of new hits on this one, so I wanted to share an update with you all!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, again thanks for reading and the comments xoxox!

While John picked at the remnants of his breakfast in the dining room, he perused the paper, before a familiar figure strolled into the restaurant. Coming directly towards his table in the corner, the blonde woman from Epsteins approached him with a folded message in her hand. He stood up to acknowledge her presence. “Good morning Miss Linda, fancy seeing you here.” She sat at the chair closest to him, pushing the paper across the table to John.

“I’ve been sent by Paul, he’s not well, and he told me where to find you.” She helped herself to the carafe of coffee on the table in front of her. A little surprised by her boldness, he proceeded to open the message as Linda gave him a bit of privacy.

‘Dearest John,

My intentions were to rendezvous, however Mr. Epstein demanded more of me and I failed to keep my promise, which was to be with you.

Please forgive my absence,

Truly, Paul’

He read the words over, memorizing them. “Where is he now?” John looked at a coolly sitting Linda, “He’s in his room, but he’s quite ill, pale, shaking. I don’t know what happened, but he’s in a bad way.” Adding a sugar cube, she stirred the hot beverage. “Is it the dysentary?” John had a moment of anguish, thinking back to the day when he woke up to the cold body of Stuart, arms still wrapped around him. A shudder visibly rolled down his back.

Linda saw his reaction, taking her hand quickly to squeeze his now trembling fingers. “Oh no dear, nothing like that, please don’t worry, it was only a bit of excess, he will be fine later today.” Her gaze to his eyes, gave him relief. John whispered a silent prayer for the reassurance in Linda’s voice. 

The clock in the lobby struck nine, he was needed in his portrait session. He stood from the table, nearly forgetting his manners as he ushered towards his appointment. “Thank you for bringing me this, and please, stay and eat, just charge it to my account.” He leaned in to brush a kiss to her cheekbone, as he buttoned his suit jacket. “Don’t mention it love, he’s quite taken by you.” As he pulled away, a swell in his chest forced a smile to his face. His mind had been put to ease, feelings were apparently mutual.

*************************

After a tonic of peppermint extract and a dab of laudanum, Paul locked himself in the bath, enjoying a solid thirty-minute soak before he was pushed out. He was feeling as good as possible after the night he’d had, but the niggling nausea still clung tight, when the idea of a repeat performance lingered. He couldn’t face the idea that he would be expected to spend more time with the woman he was disgusted by. As he walked towards Mr. Epstein’s office, he would explain the matter and dismiss himself from the after party.

Knocking gently on the door, he received no response. Resting his head against the solid wood, he took a deep breath, deciding in that moment, that since he couldn’t explain the situation to his boss, he would do what he did best. He would just disappear. Thinking only of John, tucked away on the other side of town, he’d find an excuse to be away from the private party. 

Knowing Linda was more than likely back from tracking him down, she was the only other aware of their interaction. He felt he could trust her, regardless of what her opinions of him were now that it was obvious of the sort of relationship they had going on.

He walked back to his room, with hopes to rest and hide out before the night would begin. Easing past a number of working girls leaned over the rail, enticing the afternoon clientele, he spotted Linda climbing back up the stairs. He sighed in relief, hoping she had word from the man he ached for.

Casually he brushed her shoulder, linking his arm into hers, he pulled her into the nearest room, which was an unoccupied smoking room. He needed to hear a reassurance, the pleading looks in his eye told her he was waiting on pins and needles. “I gave him the message, he was understanding.” Trying to set Paul at ease, it was apparent he needed more. “How was he? Did he appear upset? Was he already in his portrait session?” Attempting to calm his nerves, she gripped his shoulder, “He was finishing breakfast, and by the look on his face, he was happy you were alright. I suspect, you two will be reunited soon. Don’t worry, Darling.” 

He hugged her tight, burying his face in her bosom, his arms wrapping around her corseted waist. “Thank you Linda, you have eased my pain and worry.” Taking the affection as it came, she surrendered to the man’s vulnerability. In the short time of knowing Paul, she had begun to feel a bond to him. His ability to respect her, and show her kindness, tugged at her heart. Knowing now where his intentions lied, she knew he could never reciprocate the feelings that she now felt as affection. 

Seeing his happiness warmed her, so rarely good things happened in the saloon, she wanted to share joy. “You be careful, Love. It’s a hard world out there, and I don’t want it hurting you.” He pulled away, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “You’re a legend Linda, you really are.” He kissed her forehead, stepping out of the room, he winked to her as he sauntered back down the hall. Alone in the cigar room, she plopped hard into a wingback chair, sobbing into her handkerchief. For she knew that the moment Epstein discovered the secret lovers, neither of them would be safe.

*********************************

To turn the attention off his impending disappearance, he had found Jane, and wanted to try something new for the night’s performance. Convincing her to ad lib and dress up, he agreed to some costume changes throughout the show, including a corset, bustle and stockings like the can-can girls. Jane in turn would dress in his suit, spats and a faux mustache, all the while putting a spin on their normal routine.

Enjoying the backstage antics with the other performers, he swallowed down the nerves, as he allowed Jane and the others to dress him up with make-up on his face and ribbons in his hair. When the time arrived to begin, Jane began at the piano, disguised as Paul, while he waited in the wings.

The whole first half of the performance was a hit, while Paul observed the balcony box where the private clients waited and watched, the house audience laughed uproariously at the change in dynamics of the two lead characters. Paul playing the little Bo-peep, who had lost her sheep, and Jane being the big bad wolf with the intentions of ‘eating Bo-Peep’ the skit was heavy on the innuendo, mild on music.

Changing backstage under the gas lights, sweltering in his costume, Paul stepped out into the alley to catch some air during the intermission. The night had cooled significantly, as he welcomed the crisp air on his exposed skin. “My, what big eyes you have Miss Bo Peep.” The familiar voice caused Paul to spin around, flowing the bright pink skirt around his legs. He nearly fell when the strong arm of John caught him around his corseted waist. Throwing his arms around the neck of the man, he let his mouth fall into a kiss that was better than anything.

For any outsider, their affectionate embrace would be a normal interaction between a man and woman. For John, the idea of kissing Paul in dress, just became about the most erotic concept he could fathom. Kissing deeper, their tongues connected, moaning hard and breathing heavy. Their hands were all over, cupping handfuls of stuffing in the makeshift dress, Paul’s lipstick smeared across the mouth of his lover. Panting words of lust, “You’re here, oh God, I missed you so….” Stretching his neck, for the lips of his artist to paint his skin. Nibbling harder the lower his kiss went, as he pressed Paul against the brick. Lifting his leg to open his hips wider to John’s grasp, he clutched the billowy fabric, searching for the flesh he needed in his hands.

With calloused fingers squeezing the pale thighs of Paul’s legs, he could feel the grip would bruise him, but he didn’t care. The stiff arousal of John pressed into the delicate space between his silk stockings and cock, made him groan with desire. Wanting nothing more than to be filled again with the weight of John’s talented dick, he pulled the man closer, kissing with urgency. He knew they couldn’t finish this in the alley, he tilted his hip a bit more, allowing the raging hardness of both their pricks to rub, emitting a harmonizing growl into the dark night.

The sudden squeak of the stage door, broke the two of them apart with fervor. “Five minutes Miss! You’re on in Five!” Then the door slammed shut, as the old stage hand went back into the theatre completely unaware of his disruption. 

Attempting to adjust his garments back, John assisted as best he could without trying to tear the dress further. “Not very ladylike of you, lifting your skirt, showing off your knickers.” His wolfish smile teasing Paul, as he tried to get as presentable as possible. “Yeah, well, wasn’t expecting my lover to pounce me in the alley, now was I?” Pushing Paul up against the brick again, he kissed him once more. Hard and tender, feeling like he was assuring Paul that he was here and wouldn’t be leaving without him.

“Say it again? Please?” John urged. “Say what again?” The confusion on his face was bliss, and John leaned in again to place delicate kisses to his mouth. “What I am, what you called me.” Kissing the undersides of Paul’s jaw. “Lover? Are you my lover?” Breathlessly he laughed softly, closing his eyes as his arms wrapped tighter around John. “Yes, yes. I am, Paul. Let me love you.” He held him tight, promising with his grip to keep him happy and safe. Returning the pecks of affection, “Take me away, after the show. Wait for me here, and we’ll leave, together.” 

As he pulled away, letting their entwined fingers to be the last appendages to touch, they whispered goodbye. Paul disappeared into the theatre, and John waited cautiously, keeping an eye out for any person attempting to keep them apart.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello My Darlings!
> 
> I've been thinking about this update for weeks, and finally just got it down tonight. I have a clear outline for the plot of this, so I hope you keep reading to find out what will happen to our 'Lovers'.
> 
> Thanks for all your comments and support xoxoxox

Covered in a dark green cloak, satchel of possessions in his hand, Paul waited. Looking up and down the alley, as he listened to patrons and performers scurry around inside the music hall. He was becoming impatient, and was just about to turn back towards the opposite end and sneak off into the tree line, when the familiar gait of John came around the corner. Hands in his pockets, and cigarette burning between his lips.

“Ready to go, Miss Bo Peep?” Extending his arm to Paul, he accepted, still disguised in his ruffles and rouge. Before they walked further, Paul gripped his forearm tightly. “I need to hideout somewhere, for a few days. We can’t go to your room, it’s not safe there.” Paul’s eyes pleaded, but John didn’t feel it was the place for asking more of the situation. He only nodded, and pulled Paul into him tighter. “Say no more, I have a place we can go.” Guiding the man out towards the rowdy street, he covered his head with the cloak, keeping his head down. He let John push them through the active surroundings, until they had moved away from the main thoroughfare into a more residential part of the town.

The noise of the town center faded, and with only the echo of heels on the dirty gravel, they soon were in the back alley of a quiet neighborhood. Lowering the hood of the cloak Paul looked around to see if he noticed the area. He could still hear the Saturday night riff raff from afar, but they were clearly out of sight from Epstein’s place, and the hired goons that loitered around.

Approaching a tall cedar fence, John opened the latch, the squeaky hinge breaking the night air, alive with crickets chirping. When they walked into the greenspace, a garden of fruits and vegetables grew among boxes and dark soil. Paul’s eyes immediately spotted the dark fruit of grapes, growing wildly up the makeshift wire fence. His stomach rumbled, it had been hours since he had eaten, and the juicy orbs were taunting his empty belly.

A soft light from a backroom glowed out into the night garden, stepping up to the landing, John kept an arm around the costumed waist of Paul. He knocked, in a staccato pattern, “Just go along with what I say, alright?” Before Paul could register an answer, the door opened, sharply to a yellow haired woman. Plain, and simple, holding a bundled baby, asleep in her arms.

“Mr. Lennon, how are you?” Although the hour was late, it didn’t seem they were intruding. “Miss Powell.” John leaned in, kissing the full cheek of the woman, as he pulled away, John’s hand brushed over the sleeping babe’s head. “I’m afraid, my friend needs a place to stay a few days. Miss McCartney is passing through, and her initial plans have… erm, fallen through. Might you have a room for her?” John inquired sweetly, still focusing on the baby, sound asleep. 

Paul peered up at the lady, as she looked him over. “I’m afraid Miss, my house is full at the moment. I only have the attic room, which might not be to your….” “It’s fine!” Paul interjected, keeping a feminine lilt in his voice. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, softly. “Anything you have is acceptable, thank you for your kindness, and discretion.” He added the last bit as he stepped closer, so she could see his face better. “Please then, come in.” she ushered them into the kitchen.

A large table, set with several loaves of freshly baked bread, and harvested vegetables, caught his eye. The amount of food, could feed a small army, and before they were led further into the house, Paul spoke up. “Might I trouble you for a bit of supper as well?” John turned and glared at Paul, but when his eyes darted back to the woman with the baby, she had a soft smile on her mouth. “Of course, I shall have Dorothy bring up a tray for you, after you are settled in.” 

They walked through the area of the house servant’s quarters, as Paul saw a few young girls mending socks, by the wood burning stove. Miss Powell handed off the baby to one of the young girls before taking the two up winding stairs to the attic.

Climbing up several flights, the weight of Paul’s dress and undergarments were becoming a challenge to maneuver in the tight corridor. As they stepped through each floor, he heard the occasional sound of babies crying. He wasn’t exactly sure what this place was, but if John trusted this woman, then he could too.

When she opened the door to the attic, it was hot and stuffy. Stacks of crates lined the walls, and besides a large feather bed in the middle of the floor, there was a table and a chair near the window with a small balcony. Lighting a lantern, the room illuminated, she walked over to the single pane, and cranked it open. A cool breeze blew through the room, instantly breaking the staleness. Paul looked around, trying to appear aloof. He had stayed in much worse, and really it wasn’t bad. He made his way over to the window, lucky for him, it faced North. Although it didn’t seem as they were climbing, the house he was in actually looked down into the main street of Deadwood, giving him a perfect view of his surroundings.

“Miss McCartney, it isn’t much, but stay as long as you need, we can discuss payment in the morning. Dorothy will be up with food and a water pitcher shortly. There is a privy on the floor below, I’m sure Mr. Lennon will fill you in on the house rules.” She began to walk towards the door, before turning back, “Oh, and Mr. Lennon, you know how I feel about gentlemen callers. Please be on your way, once Miss McCartney is settled.” Caught a little off guard, Paul snickered at the scolding. “…But, Miss Powell, you have nothing to be worried about. We are merely friends.” John tried his best to convince her, but Paul could tell that perhaps this woman was familiar with John and his ‘friends’. “Just behave John, and try to get some rest, Miss.”

“Thank you, so very much Miss Powell, I am indebted.” Nodding in his heavy shawl, he said goodbye as she left the room. As soon as the steps were muffled further, Paul proceeded to discard of his heavy clothing. Dropping the cloak into a pile, he began to reach for the wig, still settled on his head. The ringlets of curls framing his face, his scalp sweated under it. “Wait!” John hissed, and within a moment, a soft knock was at the door. 

“May I enter, Miss?” John was quick to open the door and allow the young lady to enter with a full tray. “I’ll just set this on the table, over there.” She craned her neck, signaling the destination. “My name is Dot, I’ll be back in the morning, should you need anything.” She didn’t make eye contact with either of them, and left the room as quickly as she came in.

When the door closed again, John was quick to lock it, avoiding any further interruptions. Paul had walked over to the tray of nourishment. Popping a slice of apple into his mouth, he ate loudly, proceeding to snatch up two juicy grapes, and relishing the burst of sweetness into his mouth. After enjoying the fruits, he reached up to undo the pins keeping the disguise on his head, Paul welcomed the freedom when his own sweaty locks felt the air of day. Running his fingers through his raven tresses, he laid the wig on the pile slowly forming at his feet. He began to take off the satin gloves, covering his hands and arms, when the familiar presence of John made its way behind him.

“Let me help you with that, Miss.” John’s arms wrapped around his waist, fingers splaying across the boning of the pink dress and corset. His sharp nose touched the soft skin behind Paul’s ear, mouthing at his neck. Through the excitement of running off, Paul’s heart beat wild as John took him to this sanctuary. A place where they wouldn’t be found. Now alone in the attic room, he was ready to surrender to him.

With soft kisses down his sticky neck, John took his time unbuttoning the dress, letting it pool on the floor at his feet. With only the corset, knickers and black stockings clinging to his body, Paul shivered. Not from the breeze blowing into the room, but rather the soft touches being given to his skin. John’s callused fingers traced over his shoulders and defined collarbone. All the while kissing down between his shoulder blades, licking softly at the saltiness waiting there for his tongue.

Enjoying the hot breath against him, Paul turned meeting the mouth of John with his own. Reuniting in the best way possible, John moaned softly into his sweet mouth. “You taste delicious, luv.” Kissing soft pecks to his red stained lips. Before wrapping his arms around the neck of his lover to pull him closer. Paul picked up the bundle of grapes, seductively biting one off the bunch, keeping it between his teeth, he leaned in to devour John.

The mutual kiss exploded with sweet nectar, as their tongues entwined deliciously. Paul licked into John’s mouth, possessive and rough. Emitting a groan of approval, John’s hands began to untie the laces of the restricting corset, keeping him away from the ivory flesh he needed. He spun Paul around, hands holding his waist hard, as he thrust against his backside. Feeling John’s obvious arousal against the thin linen of the ruffled knickers, Paul whimpered. He needed to be free of the confines, needed to feel the man inside of him.

Guiding them towards the mattress on the floor, they clumsily fell into a heap. John administering kisses down Paul’s back while he untied the endless loops of the garment. Paul laughed at the silly display as John frantically worked his hands all over, until the blasted item was gone. Paul’s flesh was red from the constriction, as John’s fingers roamed over every inch, kissing the lines pressed into him, with sweet conviction and tenderness. 

Still holding the bunch of fruit in his hand, he turned, and directed John’s attention once again to his mouth. Kissing deep while he clutched at the strong jaw, Paul shared the fruit with him, teasing and moaning, all the while attempting to remove John’s clothing. Between the sweet mouthfuls, John pulled away. Breathing heavy, with most of his shirt buttons undone, the look in his eyes as he pushed Paul further into the mattress, was sinful. Paul found himself staring at the man above him, letting his thighs fall apart, he offered himself willingly.

Snaking his hand up the inseam of the stockings on Paul’s legs, John took his time, enjoying the display for him. Perched on his elbows, Paul watched as John lowered himself, nuzzling at the inner thigh of his leg, kissing the furry area between the stocking and knickers. His mind swam with pleasure when the lips of John, sucked on the whisper thin fabric, barely containing his leaking erection. His eyes closing in pleasure, as the tongue licked over the head of his dick through the cotton. He was melting into the bed, wanting more as the hot breath ghosted over his arousal.

Just as he threaded his fingers into the luscious maple locks, a firm grip on both of his thighs squeezed, and flipped him over onto his stomach, yet still guiding and lifting his hips up. With the new position, Paul peered over his shoulder, reaching for John as he kissed urgently over the round crest of his ass, tugging at the waist of the knickers with his teeth. In a swift motion, the light cotton was pulled down, exposing all of him.

Caressing over the milky white flesh of Paul’s thighs and glorious ass, John stopped briefly, and reached for the discarded bunch of grapes next to Paul. Keeping his eyes focused on the man, as he writhed obscenely, waiting and wanting whatever would happen next. He watched John put two of the orbs into his mouth, sucking on them. Paul’s breath was heavy, anticipating, when all of the sudden, the strong hands of John spread him wide, licking a firm, wet strip over the sensitive skin of his hole.

Nibbling soft, the cool, sticky juice gushed over his hot skin, and Paul moaned out as the tip of John’s tongue traced the rim of his tight muscle. “Oh, God… John….” His words were lost in a knot of pleasure gripping his throat. As the skilled tongue lapped up the nectar, now dripping down his thighs, Paul was seeing stars in his eyes, wavering on edge. Rocking back onto the mouth giving him everything and more. Paul welcomed the intrusion of spit-coated fingers, pushing in, pressing against that spot. Keening into the dark room, he needed more.

Watching as the tight ring fluttered around his thick fingers, John prepared himself, needing to be inside of Paul, the want was insatiable. Keeping up with the movement of his fingers, Paul pushed back, arching, fucking himself harder onto John’s pliant digits. With minimal interruption, John slathered his prick with the leaking pre-come and saliva, he breached the entrance to Paul slow. Holding his hips tight, to guide softly, John listened to the change in pitch to Paul’s voice, softer and content, as if he was complete with John filling him.

When he was fully sheathed in the warmth, he moved slowly, allowing for the pleasure to find Paul again. The movement picked up, and soon their bodies moved in tandem motion, perfect and slick. Reaching around, to hold up the man under him, writhing wild with ecstasy, his fist gripped tight, making Paul growl out, voice wrecked, “Harder…oh please John, I need it! Harder!” Slapping skin, meeting the thrusts, John felt the tightening in his spine. Heat in his abdomen lying over Paul while his hands ministered clumsy jerks, it didn’t matter because when the pull of Paul’s orgasm tugged him in tighter, he shuddered from head to toe. Feeling his come coat the insides of Paul, they breathed together, in syncopated gulps, while their limbs and torsos entwined. This was it, this was everything that mattered, nothing could be better than what they had just experienced.

Minutes or hours later, they really didn’t know, they laid together on the plush feather bed. Only the light of the moon shining into the small attic, clothes strew everywhere showed evidence of what had transpired. Resting his head on the chest of Paul, he was running fingers through the corkscrew curls, wild from the sweat that had drenched his body from the earlier activity. John traced over the ivory skin of Paul’s body, memorizing every freckle, wanting to keep this moment forever.

They had been silent for some time, enjoying the post sex glow that had lasted for a substantial moment, before Paul spoke. “When I said to you, I needed a place to hide out. How come you didn’t ask me, ‘Why?’” Looking up into Paul’s hazel eyes, “Because it doesn’t matter why. You asked me to help you, so I will help you.” Without his glasses, the honesty in John’s eyes rang true. Paul’s heart slowed and he felt in his chest a sensation he had never felt before, he was certain what all the poets and authors spoke of in verse was right here in front of him. It was love.

When the sun began to rise up over the top of the trees, John had gathered his clothes, dressing quietly while Paul slept deeply. Before he left to head back to his room, he leaned over the cuddled man, wrapped in bliss and blankets. Kissing his temple softly, “I love you.” John whispered, barely believing the words that he had uttered. Smiling to himself, he snuck his way out of the home for ‘Unwed Mothers’ and walked casually to his hotel on the other side of town.

Turning the key into his room, he heard the shuffle of Martha, waiting to greet him. Only to find when he fully opened the door, two thugs waiting for him. One holding Martha down, muzzled to keep her from alerting others in the hotel. Reaching into his boot to gather the knife he kept for protection, he was instantly pushed up against the heavy wood door, having the air knocked out of him.

“Where is he?” A small pistol barrel pressed against his temple, while Mal, one of Epstein’s men questioned him. “Who?” John tried to feign confusion, when really, he needed a moment to process the whole situation. Until the voice of the saloon owner broke from behind the changing screen in the corner of the room, where John kept all of his art supplies.

“Oh, now don’t play that game with me, John. I think you know exactly who I’m talking about. In fact….” Epstein walked right up to him with the charcoal drawing in his hands, the nude he had done of Paul. “You’ve got quite the collection. Now, are you going to tell me where he is? Or is this going to get ugly?”

Before John could react further to what was occurring, a sharp thump to his head knocked him into a deep unconsciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the latest update to this fic!
> 
> This is definitely my favorite piece to write, I hope you enjoy the plot twists in this chapter!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated xoxoxox

Paul woke to the sound of a shrill cry and the shattering of dishes. Splayed out, balls emptied from the night of absolute bliss, he left his entire manhood exposed. The one thing he wasn’t supposed to display so proudly. When the tromp of heavy feet neared the attic, he jumped into action, finding the nearest garments to cover his indecency.

Scurrying to the pile, managed to dress in an undergarment, and wrapped his cloak around him. Only to be met with the forceful shutting of the door, and the pale haired proprietor from the night before. 

“You can try to get dressed, but your morning beard growth won’t disguise the fact of the matter.”

Bowing his head, he couldn’t look the women in her eyes, “Forgive me, I have been untruthful, and not worth your generosity.” It was better to admit defeat.

“I’m no fool Miss McCartney, you did well last night, but in the light of morning, it’s impossible to believe your little game.” She approached the broken remnants of pottery shards on the floor, picking up and putting the pieces into a bucket.

“Fortunately, John is a good friend, and I agreed to help him.” She looked up and approached Paul. “Whatever you need shelter from must be dangerous, which is why you are welcome to stay. As long as you need.”

Although petite and soft spoken, her kindness was genuine. Trying to adjust his awkward garments, he extended his left hand to shake hers. “Thank you, um…”

-“Ms. Powell, you may call me Cynthia, or ‘Cyn’ as John does.”

He would do whatever she asked, the woman had a big heart and he didn’t want to over stay her hospitality. “Cynthia, thank you for your discretion. John is lucky to have such a friend as you.” He looked into her dark brown eyes, worn and tired. Too many years caring for others except herself.

Touching his hand, she shook and smiled. “You are most welcome..er…”

-“Paul! I…um, the name’s Paul.” He blushed slightly, more out of modesty at the current state of his clothing.

“Well then, Paul.” She began to walk out of the attic, leaving him to his own. “Perhaps, tomorrow morning, you could find some undergarments so as not to scare my juvenile house servant with a morning wake up call with your ‘willy.’”

Turning a deep shade of pink, Paul cleared his throat, sinking further into the cloak.

“My apologies, I will correct my ways.” His sheepish eyes connected with hers.

“Thank you, Mister McCartney. Now, please get yourself proper and come down for breakfast.” She smiled at him, and closed the door lightly when she left.

Pulling himself back to reality, Paul sighed deeply. His life had become quite a mess most suddenly. Falling in love with a man, running from his criminally corrupt boss, and posing in women’s clothing to dissuade further suspicion. If he would have imagined this as his future a year ago, he would have never believed it.

Yet with the shake up and uncertainty, he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset or scared. All those feeling that catch you in your most vulnerable times, Paul wasn’t experiencing. For the first time in a long time, he was genuinely happy with where he was. What more could he have asked for? Money in his pockets, a roof over his head if he needed one. Or a blanket of stars above him if he so chooses, his mind wandering to the homestead of John’s. Secluded and serene, a piece of paradise. 

He dug into his knapsack to produce trousers, a shirt and suspenders. He paused while he dressed, thinking back to the moment when he and John had the perfect day in the sun. He wanted more of that, of time together in his cabin in the pines. When he saw John again, he would ask him to take him away to the little piece of heaven in the hills. A place just for the two of them.

He smiled at the thought, a perfect home with John. Yes, that sounded quite alright to Paul.

*******************************************

His head was muddy with the muffled waves throbbing in his ears. Neck limply straining, he opened his eyes to painfully observe where he was. 

With hands tied behind his back, John licked over his split lip, stinging him into full consciousness. He recognized this place, the cellar under Epstein’s whorehouse, the less frequented storage closet. Well aware that Epstein shook down ‘business associates’ in the basement nooks and crannies, he never anticipated himself being one on this end of the discussions.

Trying to remain calm, he couldn’t let the man push him around. All this fuss because Paul had failed to work an extra shift and private concert for an investor? No, there was something else that Epstein wanted. Paul was small time, Brian didn’t cause this much fuss for someone he paid as little as he did the piano player. 

His gut told him, maybe Brian had heard the rumor, the whispers of what had recently been discovered in the hills of his property. Keeping quiet his own transactions with those he trusted, John hadn’t exactly been advertising that he was a land owner sitting on a very profitable ‘pocket’ of gold. A discovery fairly new and lucrative, but tricky in a town like Deadwood where it would be nothing for a prospector to murder him over the land deed.

The most important ally he had in the whole operation was the Lakota tribe that settled north of his land. The camp they kept year-round, and that suited John just fine. In the years living there, he had become acquainted and traded frequently with members of the tribe. 

Speaking a few words of native tongue, John was not a threat to the group. Far enough from the town, they left the riff raff of the taverns alone. John was also an outcast, they had seen him through the loss of his companion, and his struggle in the harsh winters. Trading him furs, and dried meat for rice and paint pigments. He mostly left them alone, and they offered protection from afar.

The men of Deadwood had tried a shake up against the tribal leaders, only to be out witted and backed further from the tree line to avoid further altercations. Most leaders of Deadwood stayed away from the Lakota, leave it to Brian Epstein to attempt to get his slimy hands into their pockets as well, so to speak.

Heavy boots trotted down the rickety steps, John sat up straighter, ready for an interrogation. 

“Look who’s awake!” John recognized the voice as Mal, one of the nicer thugs of Epsteins. Close on his heels was the man himself.

“Ah, so you are alive. Neil gave you quite the crack, thought he had just gotten rid of you before we had the chance to really talk.” Studying the cufflinks of his starched shirt, he preened and primped while he casually spoke to John tied in the chair.

“What’s all this about, Brian?” John ask as confidently as he could.

Brian wasn’t going to dispose of him, he hadn’t gagged him, obviously he was anticipating a discussion. Although John was on the receiving end, he knew Brian wouldn’t get what he actually wanted if he killed him.

“I will ask the questions, John. Now tell me, how long have you been fucking my piano player?” With a playful glint in his eye, Brian flirted, causing Mal to snicker at the ‘queer’ imagery.

“Long enough to know that isn’t the reason why I’m here.” Keeping his poker face, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The smugness on Brian’s face disappeared, “I have very specific restrictions regarding my employees, you have broken my trust, John. As for that pretty princess Paul, he owes me.”

“What does he owe you? He didn’t stay to play an extra show?” Then realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Oh, I see how it is…. You’re jealous.” Staring daggers at Brian, John could tell how childish he got when he didn’t get what he wanted. Years of working with the man, John knew when he got manipulative. 

Smirking, Brian tried to brush off the accusation. “Really John? I think by now you are aware that my tastes are a bit more distinguished than a river rat from jolly ol’ England.” He laughed, Mal joining in the ribbing.

“Well, you should be. He’s a magnificent fuck.” John confidently let the words drop from his mouth. “No, I mean it.” His eyes widening, to spill the details. “That mouth of his, God…” whistling a high note to emphasize the talent. He shifted on the chair, giving a lift of his lap, to insinuate. 

“Shut up.” Brian finalized him talking before he could divulge more. Even after all this time, John knew Epstein desired him. 

When he said that Brian was jealous, he had meant jealous of Paul. In the years after Stuart died, he tried all the time. Every way to convince John they should be together. John never could, he genuinely had cared for Brian as a friend, but could never have sexually been with the man.

Now, in current circumstances, being roughed up and tied to a chair, he might have to reevaluate his friendship with the man.

“Look Brian, I gotta take a piss, so why don’t you just tell me what the fuck is going on, so I can get back to me day job. You know I’m a painter? Got me a commission for a few weeks which was WHY I wasn’t able to help you out at the bar. Remember that conversation we had?” Looking at the saloon owner like he was daft.

“Ah yes, that. Funny you should mention that painting commission.” Brian pulled up a stool that had been sitting in the damp corner. Squatting down to be eye to eye with John. He lit a pre-rolled cigarette from his polished silver case.

“It seems that railroad baron is very interested in an investment opportunity you spoke with him about.” Blowing a white cloud directly into John’s face, he didn’t flinch at the smoke.

“Why Brian, am I not allowed to make my own business decisions without you sniffing around?” Growing tired of the bad guy front Epstein was trying to pull at him.

“Listen to me you little cocksucker. You would have nothing if it wasn’t for me.” Standing up, he was getting angry. “I gave you a job, money, and protected you from that group of bandits that tried to hang you when you made a pass at their prized gunslinger! I could have let them have you, but I didn’t. I protected you because I care about you.” 

Pulling on the rope tying his hands behind him to show him. “You’ve got a shitty way of showing me, Brian!”

“Mal, leave us. Go upstairs to check on the bar.” Brian barked with his back still turned to John. Mal exited without a word.

John watched the large man leave them alone, the next moment Brian was close in front of him, falling to his knees to hold the jaw of John’s face, tracing the raised purple bruise swollen on his cheekbone.

Flinching at the touch, John pulled away. “I can’t make you want me, John.” Brian sighed in defeat. “I just want you to try, can you try to love me?” his eyes we glassy, tears forming, or it could be the laudanum making him the soft bastard that John had grown to despise.

“Look at yourself Brian.” John commanded his attention. “Get these ropes off of me so we can talk like equals.” 

Clumsily removing the knot, he freed John. Seeing now how stupidly this escalated. All Epstein had wanted was to confront John about the investment to build a mine on his property. After discovering the drawings and sketches of that gorgeous McCartney naked in the setting of John’s room, the jealousy enraged him.

He’d lost his composure, showing John the weakness that had consumed him in the months when John was appearing less and less at the establishment.

Standing eye to eye, John steadied Brian’s slumping shoulders. “Brian,” He looked at John, ashamed of what he had done. 

“I’ll let you invest, but no more of this.” Gesturing to the bleak cellar. “We’ve known each other too long, this isn’t who you are. Not to me, anyway.”

Nodding his head, he knew John was right, he wasn’t himself. “I know John, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you have to prove it to me. I need to rely on you, before I can trust you to help get this prospect profitable. Understand?”

Straightening up, he gained composure, to finalize the business transaction. “You can rely on me John, I promise.”

“That said, you leave Paul and I alone.” John stared him down. He had the upper hand for the first time ever with Brian, and he wasn’t backing down.  
“Seriously Eppy. No extra shows, no whoring him out, nothing. He plays piano and sings, that’s it.” He pointed his finger to emphasize his point.

“I won’t, you have my word.” He almost groveled at John’s feet.

“Right.” John slapped his shoulder, and led them upstairs. “I need a whiskey.” 

At that, Brian chuckled, following the battered man to the bar. If this partnership was going to be profitable, he couldn’t think with his heart. John was never going to succumb to Brian’s needs. Because of that, the next best way to be near John was to be a business partner. It was time for the past to be left behind, and make way for the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr [@smothermeinrelish](https://smothermeinrelish.tumblr.com)


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